Details
by MjrGenMatt
Summary: Taina was planning on spending the night before their next mission with as little human contact as possible. How foolish that seemed, just a short while later.


Taina had every intention of spending the night before Team Rainbow's next mission doing a whole lot of _fuck all_. Eat dinner, take a bath, maybe make fun of Elias, go to bed. She didn't expect anyone to say a word to her, they never did.

Imagine her surprise when Timur pulled her aside to voice an unexpected concern. What he said confused her greatly, and she instantly became wary of his intentions. She quietly declined his request, but to her dismay he was quite insistent. With an equally unexpected amount of determination, he escorted her into her bunk room and sat her down.

Perhaps _shepherded_ was a more appropriate word.

With an exasperated voice, she addressed the stubborn Russian, "I truly don't understand why you insist on doing this, Timur."

He heaved a shallow sigh, "Our next mission will be very dangerous. Your face paint must be extremely detailed, completely concealing. I want to make sure that you are protected to the best possible degree, so I will do it."

She crossed her arms and adopted a staggered stance, leaning back on one heel, "Why is it that you are suddenly so interested in that? What do you have to gain? There _must_ be a reason." She fired off the words like hot lead.

He pondered her question and looked away briefly before looking her in the eye, "It would make _me_ feel better if you let me do it."

Taina was silent for a moment, directing her eyes _anywhere_ but at him, "I just… I don't understand why it has to be _you_ that does it."

"I am an artist, you know this. You will be better off if I do it."

She huffed and crossed her arms, cheeks blushing, before relenting, "Alright, fine. Whatever, just get this over with quickly."

He nodded, a smile on his face, "Blagodaryu vas, Taina. Do not leave, I will be back shortly."

Just like that, he was gone, leaving her to stew in her thoughts.

" _How did I end up in this situation…? Droga, why must he do this..."_

No more than a few minutes later, Timur re-entered her room carrying a full complement of paints and brushes. He placed them in a circle around him, taking care not to disturb anything in her room.

"Stay very still, dorogoy, I do not want to mess anything up."

Taina said nothing, expelling an exhale through her nose.

He got to work, starting with the basest of lines. He meticulously guided the brush up and down, tracing the contours of her face with great care. The paint was cool on her skin, eliciting a shiver as Timur continued his work.

"Easy now, moy droog."

She elected not to answer.

If Taina was honest with herself, there was something inarguably elegant about the way he wielded the brushes. The gentleness of his hands coincided strongly with the soothing expressions that passed over his face as he painted, every one conveying endless passion for his craft and leaving her strangely entranced. His face was just so… _fascinating_.

Timur dipped a thick brush in his white paint and started a stroke just beneath her ear, "I must admit, the last operation has been on my mind since we returned to base."

With closed eyes, she quietly exhaled, "Why is that?"

"The poor hostage. Taken as a captive by that group of murderous, drug-slinging _svoloch_ , this close to being killed if we did not-"

"Can we not speak of this?"

Her sudden outburst startled Timur, but he knew better than to press. He carried on, making use of varying pressure and unique angles to further transform her visage.

For once, the silence unnerved Taina. In every other situation it meant she was doing her job properly, but this… this felt as if she'd committed some great blunder.

"I-" Timur lifted his brush, allowing her to speak, " _Eu sinto Muito_ , I did not mean to-" She stopped herself, balling her fists in frustration. "My brother, Dengoso, he suffered the same fate. But he was not so lucky…" Her last words were soft, but carried as much venom as Timur had ever heard from her, shoved through gritted teeth like paper through a shredder.

"That is terrible…" His chin tilted upwards as his eyes sharpened, "Was that when you went away to Bolivia?"

She wordlessly nodded.

"My condolences and apologies, Taina, I did not know."

"There is no way you could have. I told no one, and only Meghan and Emmanuelle were present."

It was true. This, and many other stories from her personal life, remained known by as few people as possible. Better that way. Yet here she was, telling things to Glazkov that she had resolved never to think of again.

Timur knelt in front of her, meeting her gaze, "Do you want me to leave, Taina?"

She didn't immediately respond, chewing her cheek and flexing her fingers. Timur remained patient, a trait he'd grown to rely on immensely over the years.

"…No." She looked up to meet his gaze again, and he nodded.

His brushes resumed their work, as if run by some unseen tireless program. Like a machine his hands traversed left and right, making flawless radial sweeps over her cheeks and along her chin.

Timur raised his hand to begin the pass along her forehead, before hesitating at the sight of her hair resting lazily in his way. He brushed the loose brunette strands away, causing her to flinch in her seat.

He paused, "Is everything alright? If you are uncomfortable, I can stop."

Taina felt her cheeks flush, "I'm fine."

An outright lie, but she would be damned if she showed weakness _now_.

Timur moved on to her nose, using his smallest brush to tenderly apply more paint. Their eyes were level with each other, and she had nowhere else to look but right into his icy blue orbs.

On any other day, staring into a man's eyes would be commonplace, albeit under _much_ different circumstances involving knives and crushed sternums.

This, however, was no cutthroat interrogation.

She took notice of a blemish among the otherwise breathtaking frosted irises, a scar.

"How did you get that, Timur?" She spoke barely above a whisper.

He stopped his motions, pulling back from her face, "Hmm?"

"The scar… on your eye…" She raised her hand to lightly lay a finger just below the area in question.

Timur leaned back in his chair, taking the thin brush in both hands. He twirled it, admiring the fine wooden grain structure comprising his second most effective tool.

"Perhaps I will tell you one day."

She cocked her head, "Why so secretive?"

He looked back up to her, "For the same reasons you are, I suppose."

That shut her up. Try as she might, Taina found no words to follow up with. She was never a good conversationalist, but this _stung_. As she knew too well, everyone had their secrets. Whether or not he meant that as a jab of some sort, guilt wracked her brain.

Timur broke her stupor as he sat back up, "I am nearly done. One more minute."

He did not lie, within sixty seconds he laid the final touch with an exaggerated swish of the brush. He pushed his chair back to get a look at the finished result, and handed her a mirror.

"What do you think?"

Taina took it from him and gazed into the reflective surface. What stared back was a masterfully crafted design, equal parts beautiful and menacing, and would undoubtedly be completely effective during their mission.

She lowered the mirror, "I must say, I… I'm impressed Timur." She gulped, "Thank you."

He smirked and lifted his hand, softly rubbing her cheek with his thumb. She blushed for what had to have been the fifteenth time that evening, "What's funny?"

"Not a thing. Your skin is flawless." He paused, "You know, with the face paint, you look quite intimidating. Without it, however, you are so very striking. The most beautiful canvas I have ever worked with."

"What… What makes you say that?"

He ran his finger over parts of her face, "A high brow, casting a natural shadow and highlighting the arch. High cheekbones, projecting a stark contrast among the features above and below them," He rested a finger under her chin, "A perfect symmetry, crafted by the hand of evolution, unique among an entire world of other faces."

Taina shifted in her seat, feeling the most out of her element she ever had, before speaking.

"Did you know that male faces have evolved to more adequately take a punch, and minimize injury? Thicker bone structure around the eyes and nose, as well as cheeks, a broader jaw…"

"Are you saying you want to punch my face, Taina?"

She scoffed, "No, Glazkov, you _idiota_ … I'm saying you…" She cleared her throat before looking him in the eye, "You _evolved_ quite nicely."

He chuckled, a smile tugging at his mouth, "And _you_ are the most captivating work of art I have seen."

Timur leaned forward and captured her lips in a soft kiss, never removing his hand from her cheek. After several seconds passed, he pulled away from Taina, only to find her chasing him down. She kissed him fervently, hungry for more.

Taina shifted herself to rest on Timur's lap, straddling him while their tongues wrestled for dominance, teeth coming together in aimless clicks. Without warning, his hands palmed her ass, squeezing and massaging every inch he could find. He broke away from her, earning a growl from Taina until his lips found the soft, mocha colored flesh of her neck. She craned her head back as he peppered her with ardent kisses, the frustrated groan turning to muted moans.

She gasped as the kisses turned to nibbles, Timur leaving a watermark on his canvas. She pushed a cleaved breath through her teeth, leaning into his torso. Her hips started grinding against him, body aching for friction to match the localized pressure points on her neck.

A low growl emerged from Timur's throat, and stood with Taina still latched onto him. He lumbered to towards the bed, before she grabbed the bedpost and spun them around. She leaned into him as his legs hit the mattress, and Timur found himself on his back with a craving woman on top of him. Taina took the front of his shirt with both hands and ripped it apart, buttons flying every which way.

She felt his bare chest, taking his lips back to hers as her hands explored. Timur pulled the zipper on her sweatshirt and tossed it to the side, his own hands embarking on a quest. He slid up her arms, down her back, across her stomach, never relenting in the battle taking place between them. With a practiced dexterity, he undid the clasp of her bra, launching it to who-cared-where.

Timur mouth latched onto her nipple, brushing the tip with his teeth before sucking and tracing circles with his tongue. Taina's breathing became increasingly shallow, her excited nerves flaring under his touch.

The two of them hastily removed their pants and undergarments, annoyed grunts filling the air. They shimmied on the bed to rid themselves of the accursed things.

"Taina, are you-" She pressed a finger to his lips, her other hand bracing against his chest.

"You are going to fuck me like tonight is our last on Earth."

He took on a predatory smirk, "As you wish."

He roughly grabbed Taina's ass and lifted her, giving her just enough time to align herself with his cock and shoving it into her waiting cunt. She was not gentle, but neither was he; hips rolling into each other as he rocked himself in and out. She bounced on him, leaning back on her arms.

Taina's throaty moans only served to invigorate Timur further, as he started thrusting _harder,_ burying himself deeper within her. She knew what she was doing, she knew how much he relished a challenge. While keeping up with his constant fucking, he placed his other hand at her clit and rubbed furiously.

With a fluid motion, Timur sat up and pulled her into him. The two were melded at the groin, each other's legs crossed behind their backs. Skin slapping against skin, sweat dripping from their brows. She clawed at his back when he bit at her neck once more.

He pushed her backwards, never once removing himself from her, and continued rhythmically railing into her. She mewled into Timur's ear as he hit _just_ the right spot.

A breathless gasp left her, "Right fucking there-

He took full advantage, lifting her leg and continuing to pound away. She pushed herself up with one arm and kissed him again, moans passing over their tongues.

Timur's hand grabbed at Taina's throat, lightly squeezing. Like a wild animal she grinned at him, grabbing the back of his head and pulling his face to her breasts. He kissed everywhere, grazing her sensitive skin with a reverent edge.

"Timur-" She shouted out as her entire body tensed up, hands gripping the sheets like a pair of vices.

He grunted, hissed, growled, every noise possible as he climaxed, leaning into Taina without putting all of his weight on her. Their lips met as the primal haze cleared in their heads, and he rolled over to lie next to her. Chests heaving, neither moved from their spots on the bed.

He propped himself on one elbow and gazed at her, warmly chuckling.

" _Now_ what's funny, you _desviante_?"

"I may have to redo some of your face paint."

For the first time in what felt like years, Taina laughed a full, hearty laugh.

"If it means I'll get sex as a reward, you can take care of that for me every time."

"I'm sure we can figure something out," He ran his eyes over her body, back up to her face, "Taina?"

She hummed, "What is it?"

"Have I ever told you what an artist, and a sniper, have in common?"

She _giggled_ at him and punched his shoulder before she kissed him again.

"You'll have to give me a refresher."

 **NOTE:**

I took a liberty with the ending of the Ghost Recon Wildlands DLC, Operation Archangel. I'm not sure if that's technically "canon," but I feel the need to say it anyway. Taina's brother is rescued by Nomad and his team, but this felt better with the story.


End file.
